


Nobody’s Fault But Mine

by Bonymaloney



Series: Fighting It At Every Turn [9]
Category: The Outer Worlds (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/M, Light Masochism, Max is a little spoon don’t @ me, Morning Routines, Morning Sex, Now with illustration!, Religious Introspection, Spoilers for the Empty Man questline
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:09:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24552898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bonymaloney/pseuds/Bonymaloney
Summary: Max could still remember the first time he’d worn vestments. The finest clothes he’d seen in his life, the rich colours radiating authority. They fit him so well, it had to be a sign from the Universe that he was right and everyone else was wrong, that this was his role in the Plan. He’d been so young, so proud, so sure of himself… the memory was bittersweet, and he grimaced.
Relationships: The Captain/Maximillian DeSoto
Series: Fighting It At Every Turn [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629799
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

Max’s subconscious detected the change in motion before he did, and his eyes snapped open. Half drunk on sleep, uneasy without knowing why, he lay very still yet tense and ready as he cast his senses around him for the threat. A habit he hadn’t been able to shake since Tartarus; it would give him the element of surprise. Any attacker would mistake him for sleeping, and then they would feel the full force of his fury... 

But the bulkhead a few inches before his eyes was solid steel, and Pearl lay behind him with her arm slung around his waist. The cabin was dimly lit for the night cycle, the sheets were soft, and he was being held by his Captain. 

He let himself relax into the warmth of the bunk, and began to enjoy the way Pearl’s breasts were pressing against his back. All too soon, however, a familiar voice cut through the peace, and Max remembered why he was uneasy. 

“We are now in orbit around Scylla.”

 _Insufferable machine_. Scylla marked the end point of his life’s work. Here he would leave the journal of M. Bakonu, as an offering to atone for the years of bucking his place in the Plan. He was resigning himself to the fact that he would never achieve enlightenment, but there was no need for ADA to sound so fucking smug about it. 

Pearl’s breathing changed, and he knew she’d heard it too. She pressed a soft kiss between his shoulder blades and began to run her fingers through the hair on his belly. His sadly wilted morning glory began to reassert itself. 

“Scuse me,” she murmured, and released him from her grasp. There was a flask of water by her bed, and he turned to watch her drink. 

Her throat bobbed, and a little rivulet escaped her lips, running down her throat to her breast. Max leaned in and traced it with his tongue, letting his breath ghost over her skin before he drew her nipple between his lips. She moaned and shifted, her hands grasping at his shoulders and back. He kissed her sternum, her throat, then her mouth as he moved on top of her. The space was very small for two of them, but they managed, with his arms cradling her and her legs wrapped around his waist. They had spent enough time in the bunk together that the motions were well practised; but their relationship was still new enough that having such a routine was in itself pleasing. 

Pearl reached her hand down between them, wrapped her fingers around his shaft and guided him. “Do Not Disturb, ADA,” she gasped as he entered her. None of the crew had any idea whether that worked, but they had all, ADA included, decided to agree that it did. 

Max frowned. The thought of the astrogator made him remember where they were and why, and some nameless emotion caused him to bite. He liked biting during sex, liked to leave his mark. Usually Pearl enjoyed it too; but it seemed his placement or his timing was not to her liking, and she made a sound of angry protest and grabbed him by the hair. The pain in his scalp burned through him, and his groin throbbed with pleasure in response. He choked back a guttural moan. 

“Yeah?” Her voice in his ear was dark and sweet like Spectrum Black. Partly reinforcing her point, partly offering more. 

“Laws, yes,” he groaned, and kissed her. She tightened her grip in his hair and slapped him, and he began to fuck her in earnest. She hurt him with her hands even as her hips surged up to meet his thrusts. His senses were flooded with pleasure and pain and the exquisite balance between the two, with no room to dwell on thoughts of Scylla and his anger and his sorrow. Max’s eyes were wet by the time he came. He felt simultaneously drained and exhilarated, and it was very good. 

They made their way to the shower, and she looked him over. He was sore in various intimate places, and she soothed his skin while she lathered and rinsed him with her water ration. He returned the favour with his own ration, then watched as she braided her still wet hair, applied gold and black markings around her eyes. She pulled that Lawforsaken tossball jersey over her head and grinned, well aware that he was looking. Max grinned back. He liked to watch Pearl prepare herself for action, like honing an already sharp blade. 

“Feeling better?”

“I am.” He was surprised to find it was true. 

“See you soon, then,” she replied, and was gone. Max felt a little nonplussed. He’d always imagined himself leaving the ship to more fanfare; but she had other things to do on Scylla. So he made his way back to his cabin, combed his hair and freshened his breath. Tasting nearmint, he opened his wardrobe, and stood for a while contemplating his robes. 

Max could still remember the first time he’d worn vestments. At the time they were the finest clothes he’d seen in his life, and the rich colours radiated wisdom and authority. They fit him so well, it had to be a sign from the Universe that he was right and everyone else was wrong, that this was his role in the Plan. He’d been so young, so proud, so sure of himself… the memory was bittersweet, and he grimaced. 

The shirt was smooth and cool, and he enjoyed the sensation of it against his skin as he fastened the buttons, adjusted his cuffs. The cassock was a heavy, reassuring weight on his shoulders, and he traced the embossed OSI symbols and sighed. 

He wrapped his beads around his wrist, and then reached for his holster. His shotgun was a gift from Pearl, far better than the Spacers Choice crap he’d carried in Edgewater; but the holster was one he’d had for years, the leather soft and worn and fitted perfectly to his body. He made sure it was loaded before he slung it over his back. It wouldn’t do to be taken by surprise now that he was finally back on his predestined path. 

He was surprised to find Pearl waiting for him at the airlock, a little taller than him in her combat armour. Millstone was with her. 

“I’m worried Felix could be walking into a trap. The other two are gonna scope the place out - Ellie’s a known quantity round these parts, and Nyoka can keep the wildlife off her back. And besides… This is important to you. We’re just going along to make sure you don’t get disturbed.”

Max shot a sour glance at Millstone in his stupid Rizzo’s colours, but he was forced to concede it made sense. He had come to Scylla not as a gunhand, but as a pilgrim. Felix for his part looked about as thrilled as Max felt. He shrugged and put his tossball stick over his shoulder. 

“Ok, Preacher Man. Let’s go do what you gotta do.”

Max wanted to hit him. 

He kept his eyes on the roadway ahead, not looking at either of them as they flanked him, armed and armoured. The precious journal was in his pocket, pressing against his thigh, and his prayer beads clicked lightly as he walked. The atmospheric shield soared overhead, emitting a barely-audible hum that set his teeth on edge if he listened to it too closely. A barren rock, hostile to life; tamed and transformed into a place humans could live and thrive. Such progress was only possible when people lived by the Grand Equation, accepting their place and contributing their all. He’d been a fool to try and fight it. He supposed he would do best to take his aptitude test again, although he’d never actually heard of one expiring - 

“Max, get down!”

Pearl slammed into him, knocking him to the dusty ground as a burst of charged particles flew over their heads. She got to her feet and moved with that uncanny speed she sometimes possessed, closing with the approaching automechanical. Sword in hand, she began to methodically remove its limbs. Further down the roadway, Felix launched a barrage against the two that were emerging from a ruined workshop, before swiping at a drone with his tossball stick. 

Movement behind a stack of crates - another automechanical, its rudimentary combat software attempting to flank them. It was directly behind Pearl, weapons primed, and he was Void fucking _damned_ if it was getting any closer. 

Max loosed both barrels as he ran, fumbled two electrical rounds into the chamber. He hit it shoulder first, felt the pain in his arm as triumph as he knocked it to the ground and fell on top of it. It struggled to right itself, to turn its chassis to point its weapons towards him; and he screamed nonsense at it as he hit it over and over. Finally it buzzed and began to shudder. He racked his shotgun and finished the job. 

Pearl and Felix pulled him to his feet, and he gave them a grin that felt more like baring his teeth as they checked each other over. Surely this was confirmation, if ever he needed it. He was the way the Architect had made him, angry and violent; but at least it was to a purpose. 

He brushed the dust from his robes, made sure the journal was still secure in his pocket; then continued along the path towards the hermit. Let the book go to someone who was capable of enlightenment. 

Such was his resolve, until he actually stood before her, a woman of such wisdom and insight she seemed to glow with it. And at the sight of what he was giving up he felt himself fall apart, utterly undignified. Yes, he’d killed Chaney, and possibly a few others along the way, but he was here _now_ and the thing he’d wanted all his life was so _close_ , why couldn’t he just...

Felix at least had the decency to look embarrassed for him. Pearl was just watching, with the little crease between her eyebrows that meant she was thinking about something. 

She turned to the hermit and spoke to her. 

Max blinked against the harsh Scyllan glare, so different to the warm glow of the incense. It was a beautiful contrast; and he turned back to the cottage only to find with vague astonishment that the abandoned town with the dead automechs was nowhere to be seen. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been wandering for, but when he looked down his shoes were dusty. 

Next, he looked up, craning his neck back until all he could see was the stars. There was nothing between him and the void but the atmospheric shield, fragile and beautiful like a soap bubble. If it popped he would float like a bubble, him and everything else on the surface all just drifting away. He felt himself starting to go, and then instead of rising his perspective flipped and he was falling instead, diving into deep black water and he couldn’t swim…

He crouched and hugged his knees, squeezing his eyes tightly shut and breathing hard. Max was used to thinking of himself as his body, as nothing more or less than the sum of chemical reactions set in motion when the universe first began. Being a product of the Grand Equation had made him supremely self-important, and its sudden loss left him detached, almost as though he were floating above his own head. It made him feel slightly sick.

His eyes settled on the terraformer in the distance, and he swayed towards it, grounding himself by the way it stood out against the horizon. Terraformer, terra firma. Ha ha. He felt cold, and suddenly realised he was shirtless. He’d left his robes behind somewhere, but it didn’t matter. They meant nothing. 

Max had often wondered what it would be like to stand beneath the terraformer, suffused in oxygen and nuclein and the vital spark. An experience like no other, and the orange glow was so warm and inviting…

A strong hand seized him by the arm and pulled him back. 

“Max, ya hullhead, what the fuck are you doing?” 

“Shut up, Felix. But yeah, Max, what the fuck _are_ you doing?” 

Pearl stood before him, tethering him with her hands on his shoulders. Behind her, Mr Millstone shifted from foot to foot the way he did when he was agitated. 

“Everything is perfect,” was all he could say to her. 

She wrapped one arm around his waist, drew her sword with the other, and began to guide him gently back towards the roadway. 

“Felix, watch our backs. We’re going home.”

“You got it, boss.”

He relished the warmth and certainty of her as they walked. Felix followed a little distance behind in his pink and white armour. Max remembered vaguely that it had made him angry, once upon a time, but for the life of him he couldn’t remember why, and he laughed to himself and turned back to Pearl. She was still right there beside him, she was real, and she was so fucking beautiful. 

They were going home.


	2. Bonus art

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This beautiful picture of Pearl is by the amazing Jackalgirl on tumblr. She’s an amazingly talented artist and all round lovely person, go check her out!


End file.
